


For Demonstration Purposes

by Chrissy24601



Series: Dominance [3]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil
Genre: BDSM, Blow Jobs, Bondage and Discipline, Breathplay, Coming In Pants, M/M, Martingale, No Aftercare, Power Play, Size Kink, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-06
Updated: 2013-11-06
Packaged: 2017-12-31 16:40:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1033943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrissy24601/pseuds/Chrissy24601
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>“First of all, you must understand that merely tying the man down will not hold most criminals. There is one type of bond, however, that renders escape impossible. It is widely used in prisons, where it is known as a martingale.” Javert raised his brows expectantly. “Perhaps you have heard of it?”</em><br/>Madeleine withstood the urge to shake his head. They’d both know it to be a lie if he did. He had never been tied with a martingale himself while he was in the bagne, but his body betrayed that he knew what it meant: absolute submission. </p><p> </p><p>It's dangerous, it's wrong, but Madeleine cannot help but love the unholy game that Javert has started. But there are rules, unspoken rules. In hope of discovering them, Madeleine requests the chief of police for advice on protecting his factory from thieves and what to do if he should catch one in the act. On that subject, Javert is more than willing to provide a demonstration...</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Demonstration Purposes

**Author's Note:**

> A big "thank you" to esteven, who was so kind to distract my Shame and Propriety, otherwise this fic would never have been finished ^_^
> 
> Inspiration for the alternative bond that Javert uses comes from [this drawing](http://media.tumblr.com/60773f9394773214662518901cf61999/tumblr_mp754uOVtJ1r2m13fo1_1280.png) by [Vejiicakes](http://vejiicakes.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Now with [artwork of my own ;P](http://chrissy-24601.tumblr.com/post/74070679983/for-demonstration-purposes%22%22)

Friday afternoon, three o’clock. Madeleine sat behind his desk and tapped the tips of his fingers together, pretending to listen to Javert’s weekly report. Pretending, because while he heard the deep, clear tones of the inspector’s voice, his mind was occupied with more pressing matters. In truth one of those matters was the growing heat between his legs as he observed Javert, but what truly alarmed him was that the man’s stance had lost some of its powerful confidence compared to last week.

Because last week, something had gone wrong.

Exactly a week ago to the hour, Madeleine had come fully prepared to meet what he understood to be the new terms of his parole. For reasons he could not explain to himself, he had been looking forward to the moment when the inspector would abandon his report and make the transition from servant to master.

Only he had not. At first, Madeleine had thought the denial was a part of the game. But when days went by without the inspector calling on him, he wondered if perhaps the rules of their game were more complex than Madeleine had anticipated. That was not unlikely, as they were both treading on thin ice: under normal circumstances, a mayor would not consent to be fucked over his own desk by his chief of police, never mind let said chief of police treat him like a convict. What Javert had done to him was rape if it wasn’t consensual. And rape was a crime _._

That had been the first piece of the puzzle, the one that explained why Javert was so careful not to use physical or psychological force to start their unholy game. Regardless of his dominant air and confident strut, Javert did _not_ take the initiative: he could not afford to, lest he’d act without consent and all that entailed. But he did want to play, and desperately so.

A delicate situation, as Javert could not openly ask Madeleine’s consent any more than Madeleine could openly give it. Doing so would compromise the unspoken balance of mutual blackmail that kept the sexually deviant policeman in uniform and the parole-breaker posing as mayor out of jail.

By Thursday night it dawned on Madeleine that it all came down to opportunity: their first time had been triggered by his obvious arousal at seeing Javert dressed in such a fine suit; the second time when he had gone down on his hands and knees before Javert to gather some papers. But last Friday, there had been no trigger.

He could leave it like this, he knew. He would risk Javert’s sexually frustrated wrath, but Javert could not actually do anything about that without risking his own neck in the process. He could sit as still as he had last week and let Javert leave. But as he observed every inch of the inspector, Madeleine knew that the growing heat between his legs wouldn’t let that happen.

For over half an hour, Javert managed to let neither his stance nor his voice falter as he delivered his report. He remained completely professional, even to one who was looking for subtle hints to the contrary. Madeleine found that self-restraint admirable. And exciting. Between the inspector’s deep voice and immaculate appearance, Madeleine’s cock had become as stiff as Javert’s back. The desk hid his hardness from sight. Twenty times Madeleine had been tempted to stand up and demonstrate his consent, but every time he remained seated. Not in here, he told himself, and not now. There were better times and better places for the sort of game they meant to play.

“And that concludes my report, Monsieur le Maire,” Javert said gravely, but like all his words before these, they went unheard. The inspector waited for a moment, but then he bowed in greeting and swivelled towards the door.

At the first sound of a heavy boot on the floorboards, Madeleine woke from his thoughts. “A moment of your time, please, Javert!”

The inspector stopped in his tracks, hand already resting on the doorknob. “Monsieur?”

“I need...” Madeleine ran his thoughts over the various fantasies he had entertained in the last week. “I need your professional opinion about a matter that has come up at my factory.”

Now Javert released the knob and turned to face Madeleine, inclining his head to indicate that he was paying attention.

“I fear there may have been an attempt to break into one of the workshops earlier this week,” Madeleine continued.

“Then why did you not report it, monsieur?”

He sighed, buying himself time to come up with a plausible excuse. “Nothing was taken and nothing was damaged. I do not think they succeeded in their attempt, but as owner I am concerned with the safety of both my workers and my property.”

“I understand, monsieur. But as there is no crime committed, what would you have the police do?”

“I would,” Madeleine licked his lips, “consider it a personal courtesy, inspector, if you could come to the factory and perhaps give some advice on how to improve the security of the premises.”

The bait was offered. By the tiny smirk that appeared on Javert’s face, it was taken, too.

“Of course, Monsieur le Maire. I would be glad to be of service. What day and time would be convenient for you?”

“Would tonight be possible? Some time after seven, perhaps? You see, I do not wish to alarm my workers, and by that time they will have gone home.” On a hunch, he gestured dismissively with his hand. “But of course your shift will have ended by then and I do not wish to encroach on your personal time.”

“Not at all, monsieur. Shifts may end, but the work does not. Scheduling this meeting after my hours means I will not be called away or otherwise interrupted to attend to other police matters, so I can fully devote my attention to your… _concerns_.” His teeth flashed in a brief grin.

“That would be appreciated,” Madeleine muttered, looking at his hands. Javert’s habit of accentuating double-entendres put his hairs on end, but in a good way. Already he could feel beads of sweat trickling down his back.

Javert nodded. “Shall we say eight o’clock at the factory, then?”

“Yes. Yes, eight o’clock would be fine. Thank you, inspector.”

Javert gave him a crooked smile as he opened the office door. “ _De rien_ , monsieur. I assure you, the pleasure is all mine.”

When the door fell shut, Madeleine sat motionless as he listened to Javert’s fading footsteps. He could not believe he had just agreed to meet his hunter alone in an otherwise empty building. Indeed, they would not be interrupted, not even if he should wish for it. Oh, he could fight Javert off if need be, but he knew he wouldn’t want to. Not while submitting himself made him feel the way it did.

Flushing with the guilt of a young boy, he slipped one hand beneath the desk and undid his trousers’ fastenings. He suppressed a shaky hiss as he wrapped his hand around himself and began to move, silently grateful for the extra handkerchiefs he had put in his pocket this morning.

 

* * *

Madeleine spent the remainder of the afternoon on making preparations at the factory. Even if Javert knew the attempted break in was a ruse, he felt it would benefit the game if he made tonight’s setting credible. So he sauntered through the workshops, chatting with the foremen and making sure he was seen by the workers, allowing them to address him if they were so inclined. He did that more often. It was natural and therefore no one asked why he would look around well above eye level, why he would test windows and doors, or why he had taken a spare bundle of rope from the warehouse.

He sat in his office overlooking the main workshop when the bell rang to signal the end of the day. While the workers bustled to pack up their work and go home, Madeleine laid out the simple dinner of cold chicken and bread that he had brought with him, along with a small bottle of wine. Silence came over the factory as he ate. Outside, a light summer shower splattered raindrops on the window.

At half past seven, he lit two candles and poured himself a glass of wine before settling himself in his chair to wait. ‘Wait’ was perhaps the wrong word. With the bundle of rope in his possession, his mind wandered to various possibilities. Some were more appealing than others, but knowing that he would be given no choice but to obey orders added appeal even to the less desirable scenarios. A twisted psychological scar left by life in the bagne, no doubt. He couldn’t explain it, but his body’s reaction did not lie.

At eight o’clock precisely, he heard the familiar footsteps approach. He listened as they crossed the workshop and climbed the wooden stairs to his office. His fingers curled around the armrests. Mouth dry with anticipation, he stared at the door until it opened. When it did, he had to swallow a gasp.

Javert’s tall stature was impressive by default and the long greatcoat and hat only enhanced his figure in all the right ways. He nodded politely as he took off his hat. “Good evening, monsieur,” he said. He did not smile, but a devious light shone in his eyes as he wiped a few drops of rain from the black satin top before placing the hat on the hat stand by the door. “I trust I did not keep you waiting?”

Madeleine did not answer; all of his attention taken up by the way the inspector let the heavy greatcoat slide off his shoulders. When Javert hung the massive thing beside the hat, the hat stand swayed under its weight until he steadied it. Then he took three long strides and halted before the desk, standing close enough for his proximity alone to be intimidating.

“I said: good evening, monsieur,” Javert repeated, exaggerating his diction.

Madeleine straightened his shoulders. “… Forgive me, inspector,” he stammered despite himself. “I just remembered something…” Plausible words failed.

“Oh, do not hasten yourself on my account, monsieur. I’m off duty. I have all the time in the world.” The way Javert drew out the last sentence might have been a promise or a threat, or possibly both. Madeleine couldn’t tell, but it raised his hackles in more ways than one.

“It is nothing,” he said quickly. “A minor trifle to deal with tomorrow morning. May I offer you some wine, inspector?”

Javert gazed at the bottle for a moment, but then looked back at Madeleine. “If it is all the same to you, monsieur, I had rather get down to business right away.”

With a demure nod, Madeleine got up. “As you wish, inspector,” he said. From the corner of his eye, he caught Javert’s satisfaction at the phrase.

Leading the way felt wrong already, although he would have to show his ‘concerns’ to Javert before the game could begin. As he descended the stairs to the workshop, he located the supposed weak spot that he had identified in this particular part of the factory. It was a door at the far end of the work shop.

“This is where I believe the attempt was made,” he said as fluently as he could. “Throughout the factory, all windows facing the streets, as well as all such doors, are barred. But this door has a viewing window that isn’t barred.”

“I understand, monsieur,” Javert drawled as he took a closer look. “It is a risk indeed. A thief could easily break a window pane like this.” Madeleine’s breath hitched at the implied accusation, but Javert made a point of ignoring it. “Why can it not be barred, like the others?” he asked.

“The window is almost as wide as the door. Barring it on the outside would inhibit the door from opening all the way. Barring it on the inside, people might run into them in the passing and hurt themselves.” It was indeed a real problem, but hardly a thing to seek police advice on. Still, he tried to keep his brows furrowed in genuine worry.

Javert eyed him. “In that case, do you need the viewing window?”

“Well, it is practical to see if anything or anyone is on the other side before opening it.”

“I understand that, but is it essential?”

“We could do without if we must, I suppose.”

“Then the solution is simple, monsieur: replace this door with a solid one and deal with the drawbacks thereof.” Javert drew himself up, folding his arms. “Now, are there any other parts of the property that warrant my attention?”

“Several,” Madeleine said, thinking primarily of the increasing tightness in his trousers. “I could show them all, but perhaps a more urgent question first.”

“Yes?”

He took a deep breath. “Say that I was to catch a burglar in the act, am I allowed to hold him captive until you and your men arrive to arrest him?” He had put quite some thought in this, hoping to draw Javert into commencing the game. By the way the man’s eyes lit up, it had worked.

“Indeed you are, monsieur,” Javert replied. “As long as you stay within the limits of the law, of course.”

His tone, warning yet strangely seductive, sent pleasant shivers down Madeleine’s spine. He did not try to hide them. “Yes, there must be limits,” he conceded out loud. “Will you show me, inspector?”

“You want a demonstration of how to confine a thief?” Javert grinned like a tiger. “Of course, monsieur. I can even teach you a very secure way of tying him up, if you will allow me the use of that rope you have in your office.”

Madeleine flushed red. The rope! He had taken the bundle from the warehouse to his office, but had been too lost in fantasizing to put it out of sight as he had intended. However, one glance at Javert told him that this neglect was in fact a perfect opportunity. He quirked a nervous smile. “If you deem that necessary, inspector.”

Blue eyes narrowed. “Oh, I do. I assure you that my advice on that subject will be well worth your while.”

The tension in the air was tangible. Madeleine briskly turned and hurried back to his office, noting the stairs’ extra tremor as the inspector followed close behind. When he entered the office, Javert shouldered past him, literally taking over the lead.

The game had started.

Javert strode to the desk and retrieved the rope, which he subjected to close scrutiny. “Very suitable,” he concluded. Then he turned to Madeleine, looking  
him over with a similar gaze. “Well then, _monsieur_. Remove your coat and cravat, but leave all buttons of your shirt in place.”

Madeleine’s hands leapt up to comply off their own accord. One by one, the buttons came away, but when his fingers started on the last one, he froze. It wasn’t the order to undress that got to him – he had been all but naked in front of Javert before, and then same as now, he had been instructed to keep his shirt buttoned up. They both knew why and neither would question this oddity. But what did get to him was Javert’s incredibly intense gaze: if looks could devour, Madeleine would have been consumed on the spot.

“Your coat, _monsieur_ ,” Javert snapped. “Do not waste time by making me tell you twice.”

Quickly Madeleine undid the last button and shrugged out of the green coat. He folded it and put it on the desk. His cravat soon joined it.

“Good,” Javert purred, his eyes roaming Madeleine’s figure appreciatively while his hands slowly unwound the rope. “Now, _monsieur,_ there are several things one should know about criminals and other miscreants,” he said as he stood square before Madeleine. He craned his head a bit, taking full advantage of their difference in height. When he continued, he spoke calmly as he unwound the last bit of the bundle.

“First of all, you must understand that merely tying the man down will not hold most criminals. There is one type of bond, however, that renders escape impossible. It is widely used in prisons, where it is known as a martingale.” He raised his brows expectantly. “Perhaps you have heard of it?”

Madeleine withstood the urge to shake his head. They’d both know it to be a lie if he did. He had never been tied with a martingale himself while he was in the bagne, but his body betrayed that he knew what it meant: absolute submission.

He found a strange sense of safety in that notion. For nineteen years, every moment of every day had been determined by the prison guards. After eight years of relative freedom, he missed that. Not the harsh treatment itself, not the bad food, the filth and least of all the work, but he missed the odd liberty of having no responsibilities but to do as he was told. The less control he had, the less responsibility; and he was about to be rendered completely helpless. He should not want that, but he did, and watching Javert folding the rope to find its midpoint and then tying it into a noose was as stimulating as it was frightening.

“The noose can be made as tight or as loose as you like,” Javert said conversationally as he slipped the rope over Madeleine’s head. “But I would recommend making it at least _this_ tight.” He tugged sharply at one end until the knot of the noose touched the hollow of Madeleine’s throat.

Madeleine swallowed hard, feeling his Adam’s apple scrape over the fabric of his collar where the rope pressed against it. It brought back memories to the chains around his neck, as he expected it was supposed to. For a moment he feared the sensation would rouse Valjean’s anger, but instead, the noose subdued the remnant of the convict inside him. A part of him was even grateful that Javert took the responsibilities of existence from his hands once more.

So it surprised him all the more when Javert went down on one knee before him. That was wrong that was—“

“Spread your legs!” Javert barked, and all was right once more. Madeleine obeyed. He idly noted how close Javert’s face was to his crotch. That, too, was the wrong way around, but nevertheless very exciting.

“Note how both ends of the rope pass between the legs,” said Javert as he pulled the ropes in that direction. “From there, go up over the rear to tie the hands behind the back. That way, when your burglar tries to free his hands, the noose tightens.”

“E—effective,” Madeleine stammered, flushing. The pressure of the ropes and Javert’s proximity was making him hard, and given the inspector’s position, it was impossible that he did not notice this.

“Ye-es, very effective,” Javert said, his wicked smirk confirming Madeleine’s suspicions. “And it will be even more effective when adding _this_ minor adaptation.”

Madeleine bit his lower lip to keep from moaning as Javert wound one end of the rope around one leg and the other end around the other leg. His hands ghosted over the folds of Madeleine’s trousers, all the more tantalising for not quite touching. As the ropes drew taut over his abdomen, Madeleine slumped a fraction to keep the noose from tightening further. That must have been Javert’s intention, because he gave both ropes an extra tug as he secured them around Madeleine’s legs.

“Hands behind your back,” Javert ordered as he stood up, grabbing both wrists in one hand when Madeleine complied. He tied the ropes tight enough to sting through the shirt cuffs, drawing out a stifled moan.

“There, _monsieur_ ,” the inspector said as he stood in front of Madeleine again. “This is how you secure a culprit.”

Still stooped and shifting to keep his balance, Madeleine nodded. “Yes, inspector. Impossible to escape,” he muttered. “But complicated. Surely handcuffs—“

“Only the police are allowed to use those!” Javert snapped. “You must never forget that you are a civilian, and until he is tried and proven guilty, so is the man you caught! Your options, _monsieur_ , are limited!” The outburst ended as quickly as it had started. Javert bend forward so he could look Madeleine in the eye. “Handcuffs are for _real_ criminals, not for demonstration purposes.” He sneered, straightening. “Remember that and do _not_ ask me for them again!”

“Yes, inspector,” Madeleine replied, casting his gaze to the floor while savouring this piece of information. Now he knew how to tell when their game had ended for good, but he also knew Javert had not intention of doing so just yet. If anything, they were just getting started.

“Once you have bound your burglar,” Javert continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “it is important to remove any objects that he might carry on his person. That means the man must be searched.” He circled Madeleine with slow, deliberate steps. “Criminals have ingenious ways of hiding all kinds of things, especially blades. That means you must be both thorough and careful when you frisk your man.”

As he spoke, Javert searched the pockets of Madeleine’s waistcoat. He felt along the outside first, roughly stroking the fabric covering Madeleine’s flanks. Madeleine shuddered at the touch and then flinched as Javert’s long fingers dipped into the pockets to retrieve the objects inside.

In the left pocket he found a single coin, which he observed closely before putting it back. Madeleine held his breath, knowing the coin was worked into two halves that had been made hollow so it could contain small items. A convicts' trick. He suspected Javert had noticed the fine seam along the coin’s side, but if so, the inspector couldn’t care less. They both knew what Madeleine really was, even though it was key that neither said so out loud.

From the other pocket, Javert extracted a small vial. He sniffed the cork and grinned, no doubt because he had recognised the scent of the hand oil inside. “Criminals come prepared, _monsieur,_ ” he whispered into Madeleine’s ear. “Their ingenuity and foresight never ceases to amaze me. Unfortunately, it does them little good once I have them.” He jostled the vial in his hand before putting it in his own pocket. Madeleine didn’t know what to think of that, but he did know that whatever Javert had in mind to do to him, he had no control whatsoever.

No control… His cock twitched eagerly against the tight ropes that cut into his groins. “Please, inspector…” his mouth gasped at its own volition.

Javert seemed to ignore him, continuing his thorough search for elicit objects by feeling up and down the rest of the waistcoat. His fingers found Madeleine’s stiffened nipples underneath the fabric and grazed over them once, twice, thrice. Madeleine whimpered.

“What was that, _monsieur_?” Javert asked as he let his hands slide down Madeleine’s chest and down to his hips.

Madeleine couldn’t answer as expert fingers crept under the coat and felt along the waistband of his trousers, his pockets, his backside. Javert must have felt the two handkerchiefs, one in each trouser pocket, but left those as they were and moved on to frisk both legs. The inspector’s touches were fast, rough, and yet too light to Madeleine’s liking. Especially when Javert’s hands brushed his groin without truly touching. It was unbearable; it was delightful. Another gasp escaped his lips.

He heard Javert’s deep chuckle as the man rose. “Search your captive all over, _monsieur_ , but do it lightly. You may not touch him beyond the strictest necessity.”

“Not?” Peering up at the awkward angle that the noose forced on his neck, Madeleine caught the vicious glint in Javert’s eye. “W—what if the captive resists?”

Now Javert laughed. “Do you think he could resist, bound as you are? Can _you_?” He stalked another slow circle around Madeleine, tugging briefly at the ropes just below Madeleine’s hands. Madeleine made an inarticulate noise at the increased pressure against his swollen prick.

“Many will find it tempting to manhandle the captive,” the inspector said, his voice growing deeper as he spoke, “but mistreating him is a crime in itself.” He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his uniform trousers, letting his fingers trace the decorative stitching that extended from his hips down to just above his groin. “You only get to hold your burglar,” he growled. “ _Punishing_ him is up to the court.”

As if hypnotised, Madeleine followed the long fingers with his gaze. He sucked in a sharp breath when he saw exactly what they framed.

Before, he had been too preoccupied with his own arousal to register Javert’s. Now there was no denying it: the blue fabric creased unnaturally over a long, wide area between the inspector’s hands. Madeleine suddenly realised he had never seen Javert before. Oh, he had _felt_ how big the man was, how he had stretched him, but he had never seen. Now he wanted to more than anything.

But Javert’s words echoed in his head. Alarmed, he craned his head as far as the bonds would allow. “You say the—the captive may not be punished?” he gasped, dreading the confirmation.

“Correct,” Javert said simply, but he moved his fingers a fraction, drawing Madeleine’s attention back to the undisguised prominence in his trousers.

The sight of Javert being so hard but out of reach tormented Madeleine more than the ropes cutting into his tender flesh. No matter how badly he wanted Javert’s unique punishment, he had absolutely no say in whether the inspector would or would not fuck him tonight. That thought alone sent bolts of lightning down his limbs. He shuddered, knees buckling as another surge filled his throbbing cock.

Before he could fall, Javert grabbed the noose and pulled him up by it, forcing Madeleine to keep standing despite his shaking legs. “The right to hold a captive also brings obligations, _monsieur_ ,” Javert hissed in his face. “As captor, you must honour any reasonable request that your captive makes.”

“Oh?” It came out as a choked whisper, but his understanding was clear.

Javert grinned like the predator he was. “I see you are quick on the uptake, _monsieur.”_

As quickly as he had grabbed it, Javert let go of the rope, not batting an eye when Madeleine lost his balance and fell hard on his knees. Not that it mattered. The pain in his kneecaps was nothing compared to the intense fire coursing through his body. Kneeling on the floor, he squeezed his thighs to rub his trapped shaft. It was not enough, not enough by far, but he tried again, moaning for pain and desire alike.

Above him, Javert scoffed. The harsh sound was followed by the legs of a chair scraping over the wooden floorboards. Madeleine looked up to see Javert seating himself in the office chair, planting his feet well apart to provide an unhindered view of his massive erection.

“As I said, the captive may make reasonable requests,” Javert said, casually picking up the half-full wine glass from the desk and taking a sip. “What qualifies as ‘reasonable’, however, is up to his captor.”

Madeleine felt his body tremble all over, knowing he was expected to beg for whatever he wanted. A small, wet stain spread in his drawers. Yes, he would beg, beg on his knees to make Javert give him want he needed.

“Please, inspector, may I—may I request that you— that you punish me?”

Javert gave him a lopsided grin, half hidden by the glass as he drank from it. “Oh, I can. Being of the police I can. But to you, different rules apply. You may not punish your captive, _monsieur_. As this is a demonstration of what you may or may not do, that is the rule to be abided.”

The desolate, husky groan that rose in his throat sounded like a curse. “Then— may I at least request— to service you?”

Javert quirked a brow. “Service me?” he asked with feigned ignorance. “Service me how?”

Careful, so as not to pull at the ropes or hurt his increasingly heated parts, Madeleine crawled closer until he sat on his knees between Javert’s long legs. Swallowing the saliva that rapidly filled his mouth, he then dipped his head, not enough to touch Javert but close enough to smell the musky scent of his arousal.

“Ha!” Javert barked a cold laugh. “That is too much for a criminal to ask, _monsieur_!”

“But inspector, you said the captive is not yet a criminal?”

Bright eyes became burning slits as temperature in the room plummeted. “It is if the man is a repeat offender, _monsieur_.”

This time Javert’s sarcasm had a dangerous edge. Madeleine looked down. The ice beneath his feet was cracking now reality intruded on their game. He should fear for his freedom, for his life, but all he could think of was that if it all ended here, he would miss the chance to suck the engorged flesh pulsating in Javert’s trousers.

“Forgive me, inspector,” he whispered. “It is not my place to question you. Please, allow me to make amends?”

Javert growled like a hungry tiger as he leaned forward and gripped the noose, pulling Madeleine so close that their faces were not even two inches apart.

“Certain things cannot be amended, _monsieur_. Atonement and penance cannot undo the crimes that a man has committed. Such stains on a man’s soul cannot be erased.” Javert’s voice was soft but laced with cold hatred. Madeleine shivered, only barely daring to meet the icy glare.

“Still, one must try even so…”

At once Javert’s lips pulled up in a snarl that bared his fangs. “You talk too much, _monsieur_!” Biting that last word, he pulled the noose tighter with a swift tug.

Madeleine gasped at the sudden pressure against his throat. It was not enough to cut off his breath entirely, but all it permitted him were shallow puffs of air that made him feel even more lightheaded than he already was. And, against all odds, it made his constrained prick jerk violently.

Now more than ever, his life was in Javert’s hands. He should not under any circumstance enjoy that, but he did. He loved it as much as Javert relished having that power. And he loved _that_ , too. His body was trembling with lust, want, a craving that could not be expressed in words. It overwhelmed him, shamed him, undid him. He closed his eyes, hoping to hide the tears that threatened to rise.

“When a captive cannot talk sensibly,” Javert sneered, “he should not be allowed to speak at all.”

Panting, Madeleine opened his eyes again. Before him Javert leaned back in the chair, holding the rope with one hand while the other stroked the stretched folds of his trousers, fingering the fastening. “And if the noose is not sufficient to shut him up,” one by one the buttons came loose, “then gag him!”

Madeleine let out a strangled gasp at the sight of Javert’s full glory. It was everything he had hoped for and more. It was longer than his hand, with a slight upward curve and a thick head. And wide, so wide!

Next thing he knew, strong fingers clutched his hair. “Stop your whimpering and take it!” he heard Javert growl as the hand pushed his head down.

Madeleine opened his mouth just in time to admit the large cock. It filled him now as completely as it had that first night in the mairie. His jaw ached as his mouth was stretched to endurance, but he greedily pressed his tongue against the thick shaft and began to suck. Above him, his inspector moaned hoarsely.

“No teeth!” Javert warned when Madeleine swallowed in reflex. “Yesss, that’s better. Much better…”

Long fingers raked over Madeleine’s scalp, pushing him down further, inch by inch. Madeleine adjusted his throat to take in as much of Javert as he could without gagging or suffocating. The peculiar salty taste inherent to men lined the back of his throat. The few times he had been forced to do this in the bagne he had abhorred the taste. Not so now. He wanted to take in more, take in all of Javert, but he had no hope of fitting the inspector’s full length in his mouth, even if his jaw stretched that wide.

Javert was breathing hard now. His hips bucked into Madeleine at irregular intervals. Madeleine tried to move with the motions, but the hand in his hair held his head firmly in place while the other tugged at the noose. Scant of breath and aching with his own arousal, Madeleine felt tears of want and gratitude fall down his face as he stifled a sob against the huge cock that filled his mouth. What part of his mind was still functional yelled that he should not want this, but the rest of him went down on Javert as if his life depended on it.

Maybe it did, too.

Javert flexed a leg, shoving his boot against Madeleine’s swollen, throbbing prick. Madeleine lifted his hips to lean into it, against it. Shots of pleasure erupted from his abdomen and his mouth as he continued to suck. Javert’s cock quivered against his tongue, and all of him pressed down harder where he could. It was too much, too hard, too full, too—

A muffled whine was all that accompanied his release. He rode against the shin between his legs, feeling the wetness in his trousers spread as he did so. He wanted to catch his breath, but Javert held on to his head and the noose, wordlessly forcing him to go. So he obeyed, running his tongue up and down the thick shaft until one sharp thrust and a deep groan told him it was enough.

He felt Javert pulse in his mouth as hot bursts spilled down his throat. More tears fell as he swallowed, sensing the pressure of the rope against his neck while he tried to keep his teeth from grazing the hard but tender flesh he still held.

Then the noose was loosened. Madeleine drew a deep breath, air and sense flowing into him while the haze of arousal flowed out. He did not realise that he had let go of Javert until his hair was released and quick fingers buttoned up the uniform to its normal pristine appearance.

Beyond their ragged breathing, silence reigned supreme. The candles on the desk burned low, bathing the office in an unreal light. Outside, rain still clattered against the window panes.

Without a word, Javert got up, pulling something from his pocket as he rose. Madeleine could not see it, but he recognised the click of a jack-knife unfolding. Moments later, the ropes that bound his hands were cut. Sobered, he pulled the bonds from his legs and pulled the noose over his head. Noticing that his tears had not dried despite the heat of his flushed cheeks, he ran his shirt sleeve over his face. Only then did he turn to face Javert.

When he did, he found the inspector standing practically to attention. The game was done, and the master had once more become the servant.

Madeleine swallowed dry, undecided whether to ignore or to savour the lingering taste of Javert in his mouth. Instinctively, he rubbed his wrists through the cuffs.

“I trust the collar and cuffs prevented chafing burns, monsieur?” The same clear voice that had been barking commands earlier now sounded tense and constrained. Even worried. “I hope Monsieur le Maire will not hold it against me if my demonstration was perhaps too realistic.”

Madeleine focussed on unravelling the noose from the rope. He had heard the unspoken question, no doubt brought about by the tears he had shed. His mind wondered what his answer should be, but the glow of physical and mental satisfaction healed what doubt he might have. He smiled as he put the remnants of the rope in his desk drawer.

“Not at all, inspector. I found your demonstration to be highly enlightening. Undergoing it personally was indeed well worth my while, as you promised.”

The inspector nodded, a tiny smirk creeping up on his face. “My pleasure, monsieur.” He tilted his chin up, concern making way for his usual confidence. “I believe it is time I should take my leave now.”

“Yes… Yes, I suppose you should,” Madeleine replied. His drawers were sticky and he didn’t fancy walking all the way home without cleaning himself up first. In private.

“Good night, Monsieur le Maire.”

Contrary to his entrance this evening, Javert made no scene of his departure. He put on his coat and hat, nodded politely, and was gone without another word.

Unwilling to dally or think too much about what had happened, Madeleine got out a handkerchief from his pocket. Yet before he was halfway through unfolding it, he stopped. He felt the pockets of his waistcoat, of his trousers, surveyed the desk and searched the folds of his green topcoat. He found the second kerchief and his special coin, but otherwise nothing.

The little vial of hand oil that Javert had confiscated was nowhere to be found.

**Author's Note:**

> What have I done? Sweet Jesus, what have I done... *seriously considers booking Shame and Propriety on to the first flight back home*


End file.
